


The Arishok's New Name

by Mozzarella



Category: Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Arvaarad - Freeform, Established Relationship, M/M, Mage Hawke (Dragon Age), Qunari, Qunari Culture and Customs, Tal-Vashoth, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:01:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28185807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mozzarella/pseuds/Mozzarella
Summary: In which two Tal-Vashoth talk about their sundering from the Qun, and their mage lovers.An Adoribull Holiday 2020 gift with Arishawke!
Relationships: Arishok/Hawke (Dragon Age), Arishok/Male Hawke (Dragon Age), Iron Bull/Dorian Pavus
Comments: 3
Kudos: 53
Collections: Adoribull Holiday Gift Exchange 2020!





	The Arishok's New Name

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Vixiak](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vixiak/gifts).



> Wasn't sure where I was going with this, but I do adore the idea of these two talking! Always remember Bull said the former Arishok had a great rack.

Bull suspected that most of the people here, doing the important work in the Inquisition that had more to do with the day to day management, had never seen two Qunari their size walking across the grounds, both their horns significantly larger than many of their brethren. 

The former Arishok of the Qunari had certainly turned heads when he first arrived at Skyhold’s gates, standing behind the honoured Champion of Kirkwall like a strange shadow. Most referred to him as such, from Varric’s stories - Arishok, though it was only Bull, walking up to his fellow Tal-Vashoth and asking what he was now called, who acknowledged that that title no longer belonged to him. 

“You may call me Arvaarad,” said the other, wary and slow, uncertain in his way. The name seemed to sit uncomfortable on his tongue, and Bull knew that it was not the name that he had gotten used to in his time in exile. 

Bull suspected he knew exactly what name the Tal-Vashoth went by now, but he respectfully chose not to say so when he invited “Arvaarad” to the tavern for a drink. 

“Varric said he wanted to get a few drinks in your man earlier today. They’re probably sloshed by now, Koslun be willing,” said Bull, standing by the wall while Arvaarad trained, double wielding a hefty axe and blade and causing all the other soldiers to scatter as far as they could as he destroyed a few of their training dummies. “Come on. I’ve got someone waiting inside and I’m pretty sure you do too.” 

“I do not think I would be welcome there,” said Arvaraad, tone strong but just off enough for Bull to read as hesitant. 

They walked together in silence, which Bull broke just as they saw the tavern door from around the corner of one of Skyhold’s great outer walls. 

“Arvaarad, huh? You know you could pick your own name now. You don’t need to hide behind the labels the Qun gave you,” he said lightly. 

Arvaarad glared at him, but shook his head. 

“I have no need of Bas names, Hissrad. The Iron Bull.” 

“Don’t knock ‘em til you’ve tried them. I bet Varric gave you a nickname. If it works?” 

“... He calls me Grumpy, when we meet.” 

“Hah, so guess that’s a no-go.” 

Arvaarad seemed like he wanted to say more, so Bull subtly slowed his steps as they came upon the door. 

“How did you come upon your name, then, The Iron Bull?” 

Bull shrugged, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “For a while, it was, you know. A suit. A name like any other in the Qun, a role I had to play. The Iron Bull was evocative, a Bas’s way of looking at me, a big scary Ox-man, and it helped with my mercenary work.” 

“And what changed?” 

Bull sighed. “I started hearing it from the mouths of those I realised I loved,” he said, “and when they were threatened, I suppose I realised I’d gotten used to hearing it being said like it was someone’s honest truth.” 

The door opened, and the noise of the tavern escaped out into the open air. Still, for all the hustle and bustle within the Herald’s Rest, both Bull and his companion heard the call, clear as day, from a voice gruff but jovial, and extremely drunk. 

“Kadan!!! Look, Varric, my Kadan’s here!” 

“Yeah, Hawke, I see him.” 

Bull smiled, elbowing Arvaarad in the side, who looked too caught up in staring at Hawke, who lumbered over in his drunken state to welcome his lover in a warm and top-heavy embrace, forcing Arvaarad to take on his not inconsiderable weight. 

For a mage, Hawke was well fit, as Sera might say. It gave him the look of a warrior, though by now Bull had gotten used to the crackling energy of magic living beneath a man’s skin to know that the former Arishok had chosen his name for his lover. 

Arvaarad. Who looks after mages, holds back their evil. But the name rang as false as the man’s own broken connection to the Qun. 

Kadan worked better, seemed all the more honest, but it seemed like a name reserved for him and his beloved Champion, more than anything. 

“You should ask him for another name,” said Bull. “You may think things between you are all you need, but you don’t have to relegate yourself to one role, one connection. Not in this world.” 

“It is not for you to understand,” the former Arishok said, his hands soft when they stroked through Hawke’s hair as the bearded man buried his face into his Tal-Vashoth lover’s broad chest. 

“Isn’t it?” Bull said, raising an eyebrow before looking up and saying “Hey, Kadan!” Both former Arishok and Hawke looked up in surprise, up to the second floor where Sera balanced on the handhold while beside her, nursing a drink and waving with a few wiggles of magic fingers, Dorian Pavus stood. 

“Hello, Amatus. Quite the friends you’ve made, there,” Dorian said, and Bull grinned. The former Arishok looked between them thoughtfully. 

“A Tevinter?” he said, harsh and blunt, but without heat or anger. 

  
“Shok ebasit hissra. Meraad astaarit, meraad itwasit, aban aqun. Maraas shokra,” said Bull serenely as his lover made his way down, greeting him with a comfortable kiss on the cheek, a familiar gesture done perhaps a hundred times or more.

“The Qun, even now, when you have abandoned it?” said the former Arishok, though by his tone it was clear he was questioning himself as much as Bull. 

“I didn’t choose to abandon what I dedicated my entire life to,” said Bull. “I simply stayed true, and was sundered. But that doesn’t mean I have to forget everything I came from. You don’t either, but neither do you have to hide from this new truth you’ve found for yourself.” 

After a long bout of silence, they were both snapped out of it by Hawke pulling on his lover’s arm. “Come on, Kadan,” he said softly, surprisingly thoughtful for one so drunk. “Let’s sit down, huh? Get you a drink, some food. You must be hungry.” 

Bull watched him go, and nearly startled when he felt someone come up on his blind side, only to feel the comfortable, familiar sensation of Dorian’s arm wrapping around his. 

“Are you alright, Amatus?” he asked. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I just… it’s funny, huh?” 

“What is?” 

“Sundered from the Qun for different reasons, but in the end we found ourselves the worst possible Kadan the Qun could ever picture,” Bull said, chuckling as he lay a kiss on Dorian’s head. 

“You want to help him,” said Dorian, able to read Bull surprisingly well. “Because you think you’re the same.” 

“Not the same. But I get it, you know? And it’s nice to meet someone who understands. More than I thought he would.” 

Dorian sighed, nodding. “Well, come on then.” 

“Hm?” 

“Let’s make friends,” Dorian said, winking before pulling him over, loudly suggesting that Hawke tell him how he and his “paramour” met, a story which Hawke eagerly forced Varric to tell with all the drama Varric was capable of, only taking over when it came time to explain how it was that two enemies who nearly killed each other ended up falling madly in love. 

  
  


Later, when they met again on the training grounds and sparred, giving everyone in the vicinity one of the biggest spectacles they could enjoy on Skyhold grounds, the former Arishok said “Baqoun.” 

“What?” 

“Baqoun. Is the name that others might call me,” he said, sounding unsure, yet infinitely more comfortable with the title than “Arvaarad”. 

“One of those Storm Age siege weapons? Shit, that’s badass,” Bull said, giving him a heart slap on the back. To his surprise, Baqoun gave the slightest of soft expressions. 

“That’s what my Kadan said, as well,” he intoned. 

And The Iron Bull and Baqoun (Kadan only to Hawke, the Champion of Kirkwall) took up arms once again and clashed a few more times to the eventual cheering and hollering of the crowd - which only grew as the Champion of Kirkwall himself came to the field, challenging his own lover to a fight like the old days. 

“They’re rather sweet, aren’t they?” Dorian said as Bull wiped down. “Horrifically violent, but sweet. 

“Wanna have a go?” Bull asked, wiggling his brows. 

“Like you could goad me into such a display,” said Dorian, turning his head. But from the smile he couldn’t quite hide from his face, Bull knew he had him convinced. 

Later found the four in the tavern once more, Hawke celebrating a victory in a fight everyone who watched could agree had nobody holding back a single blow, blackened eye fussed over by his gruff, Tal-Vashoth lover. 

“Thank you,” said Hawke, putting a hand on Bull’s arm. 

“For what? You’re the one who had everyone riled up,” said Bull, giving Hawke a few friendly pats on his hairy arm. 

“For my Kadan. For Baqoun. I don’t think he’s felt comfortable enough to pick another name, not for the longest time. I never understood how to help him, not really.” 

“I think you help him a lot more than you know,” said Bull seriously. “There’s worse madness for Tal-Vashoth who lose the Qun so violently. If you hadn’t been there to ground him... Well.” 

“I love him,” said Hawke, softly. “I just don’t always understand him. So I’m glad he’s got someone to talk to about this.” 

“Come on, Champion. You’re smart enough to know there’s a reason he held onto the one name you had for him for so long. But if it makes you feel better - you’re welcome. Now come on, enough with the doom and gloom - have a drink!” Bull said, sliding over a gigantic tankard that Hawke gamely grabbed and swigged without a second thought. 

Sometime in the night, with Hawke singing drunkenly on his lap as he tried to keep him balanced, was the first time Bull saw the former Arishok, Hawke’s Kadan, Baqoun, smile. And he did understand, in the end, like Hawke said, smiling into his own drink as Dorian let out the most undignified laugh when Hawke ended up toppling onto the floor while his beloved fussed over him. 


End file.
